


A Sequence for You

by wisia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Anxiety, Coaching, Depression, M/M, Role Reversal, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8725168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki retired from ice skating without any medals or breaking any records. It's fine. He couldn't have made it anyway. So, why was Victor Nikiforov asking him to be his coach?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about writing a role reversal for the longest time actually. I know there are already a few posted, but I still wanted to write one and write it in my own way. Because when I thought of the role reversal, I never thought of Yuuri becoming a celebrated skater and having everyone admire him. So, that's that fic.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy. I will try and get another chapter up for _The Frozen Lake_ later.

Yuuri Katsuki retired from ice skating several years ago. He did so quietly and with little fanfare. He was not a medalist—not of any worth mentioning. The farthest he made it was to the Grand Prix Final, and he finished dead last. Sure, there were other extenuating circumstances, but this was all to say that Yuuri wasn’t anyone in the skating world. He was a nobody. So, it really didn’t explain why Victor Nikiforov, rising star and pride of Russia, stood in Yutopia.

“I’m sorry?” Yuuri said, Japanese accent coming out thick. The words stuck on his tongue, both familiar and unfamiliar. He hadn’t spoken English in a while, not even to Phichit who had more time for texting than for a skype call these days after making history for Thailand. “You want me to do what?”

“I want you to be my coach,” Victor said, calm and patient. His blue eyes were entirely earnest, and Yuuri put a hand to his forehead. He closed his eyes. No, he didn’t hear that wrong then. He took in a deep breath, exhaling. Of all the things he expected when his mother said there was a foreign guest in the onsen, he did not expect this.

He opened his eyes, half regretting getting up this morning. If he didn’t have to shovel the snow… Victor was still smiling at him, and Yuuri wasn’t hallucinating this entire exchange at all. He really did have a young Russian skater standing there in front of him. He half hoped the cold had gotten to him.

“You…you have a coach,” Yuuri pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “And he is a very fine one too.”

Yakov was well known for the skaters he turned out. Yuuri knew that much having competed against them. Yuri Plisetsky was a mean competitor, and he was quite right when he said there couldn’t be two Yuris.

“Yakov?” Victor smiled, waving a hand as if to dismiss him from the subject. “He’s grouchy. I’m sure you’ll be a much better coach. Much better looking too.”

That—Yuuri ignored the last comment. That wasn’t nearly as important as the fact that he wasn’t a coach and had never been one. In fact, he said it out loud as if that would deter the young skater.

“I’ve never been a coach.”

“But you could be,” Victor argued. “How do you know you aren’t?”

The only thing Yuuri wanted to do that morning was wake up, help out at the onsen, and then skate a bit before going to sleep. He could feel a headache growing. He turned his head, watched as a few guests attired in Yutopia’s green yukatas pass by with curious glances at them. Damnit. Yuuri hated such public conversations. Yuuri fidgeted before facing Victor. Not a dream.

“Right—why don’t you, um, settle for the night, and we can talk about this tomorrow.”

Yuuri will firmly send him off tomorrow, back to Russia where Yakov and possibly Yuri could deal with him.

“Great idea!” Victor practically bounced, the ends of his long silver hair fluttering around him. His dog barked happily, and Yuuri paused. A slight ache went through his heart. Victor’s dog looked like his own, but his poor dog passed away the night before he failed the GPF. Yuuri swallowed, pushing the thoughts away. He’ll light some incense later.

“I’ll get your luggage.”

“No, I can—“

“You’re a guest, Victor. It’s my duty to help out all guests during their stay.”

Yuuri managed to corral the man into the dining room. Victor ate and promptly fell asleep. His mother had served up a large bowl of katsudon, and it probably did the trick. Every guest loved his parent’s katsudon the most of all the menu items. The smell of the dish was delicious, an absolutely favorite of Yuuri’s. As tempting as it was, Yuuri didn’t feel his usual hunger. Instead, there was an unsettling feeling in his stomach. His palms were clammy, and Yuuri could feel the beginning of the shakes.

Anxiety. It figured. Yuuri willed himself to calm down, mentally counting numbers. When his hands lost that tell-tale tremor, he ducked into the kitchen.

“Oka-san, I’m going out.”

 

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 

Sometimes, Yuuri wished he was a drinker. Instead, here he was trooping into _Ice Castle_. The doors squeaked as he opened them, and Yuuko was behind the counter putting skates away.

“Yuuri,” she called out. “Isn’t it too early for you to be here?”

“Haha, very funny.” Yuuri leaned over the counter. “Is the rink empty?”

He hoped it was because he really needed to skate. The sensation was still there, rolling around his stomach, uncomfortable and insistent. There was a pressure building in his chest, and no—Yuuri wasn’t going to panic. There was nothing to panic over.

“It’s closing time. What do you think? And what’s with the face?”

Yuuri wrinkled his nose. “Do I look that bad?”

He pushed his glasses up, pressing his hands into his eyes. The tightness was still in his chest.

“Well,” Yuuko drawled out, a finger tapping her temple. “It’s either Minako-sensei’s studio is locked, or something happened. You think too much.”

“I—“ Yuuri flushed, pulling his glasses back into rights. “Is it that obvious?”

“How long have we been friends?”

There was a long silence. “Victor Nikiforov is here.”

“Eh?” Yuuko stared at him.

“You know, that—“

“I know!” Yuuko squealed. “Really? What is he doing here? God, he did so well last year.”

Yuuri laughed, short and bitter. “You’re not going to believe this. He wants me, of all people, to be his coach. Seriously.”

Oh kami, this was a dream. A nightmare.

Yuuko didn’t share his reaction.

“Hm…that might not be so bad,” Yuuko considered.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying? I’m the last option for a coach. It’s not like I was—“

“Stop!” Yuuko held a hand out. “You could always skate. You just get nervous. I still think you could have won if you didn’t retire.”

Yuuri frowned at her. “That’s very nice of you, but no. I’m going to skate now.”

He turned toward the locker rooms.

“Yuuri!”

“Thank you. I’ll lock up for you. I think I’ll be here for a while.”

He was glad Yuuko didn’t follow him. He didn’t know what else he could have said. He’ll apologize for his rude behavior later. Yuuri hated it—as if she knew how bad his nerves get. He wasn’t fit to skate, not with the way he was.

Yuuri focused on checking his skates. The blades were still in pristine condition, carefully cared for. That was good. He didn’t have the money for new skates, and it was an expense he couldn’t spare since he wasn’t skating professionally. He should have gotten another degree from Detriot instead.

The skates went on, his feet sliding in smooth. Yuuri laced them up, checked the guards were good, and headed out to the rink. The lights were half-dimmed, and the ice was shiny. The marks from the evening crowd still marred the surface, but it was better that way. The ice had been skated on, and now Yuuri would skate too. Without fear of a clean untouched surface.

It hadn’t been more than three or so years since he retired, but Yuuri would never forget the ice. He couldn’t forget how the blades sang as he cut across the rink, how the air rushed around him with a spin or turn. He wasn’t that old yet that he couldn’t do jumps, and he went straight into his favorite axel.

The feeling was still there, still as wonderful as the first time Yuuri stepped onto the ice.

Yes. Yuuri stepped onto the ice and danced.

 

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

“Wow!”

Yuuri froze, turning his head toward the sound. Victor was leaning over the fence, eyes wide.

“V-victor?” He stammered. Yuuri struggled to catch his breath, the comfortable headspace he cultivated gone in seconds.

“That was amazing!” Victor clapped his hands in delight.

“What? No.” Yuuri shook his head. “I’m out of practice. And, and overweight.”

He wanted to curl up and die. If only Yuuri had a hoodie or something to hide his face.

“Doesn’t seem to have made a difference.” Victor shrugged. “You landed all your jumps, and your step sequence—magnificent!”

“No. No. Stop—what, what are you even doing here?” Yuuri tripped over his tongue, trying to find the correct English words. He skated over to him. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I did, but I woke up.” Victor tilted his head at him, frowning. “You didn’t wake me!”

“You need your rest.”

“Yes, but you’re going to coach me.”

Victor sounded so put out and petulant that Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“I never said that.”

“You said we’ll talk about it tomorrow morning.”

“And I mean we’ll talk about it. That I’m not going to coach you when you have a perfectly fine coach already.”

Victor stared at him, stubborn. “Yakov’s good, but he isn’t you.”

Yuuri ran both his hands through his hair in frustration. He came here to calm down, not get anxious and riled up all over again. He breathed in through his nose. Words. He had words. English words.

“Look. I appreciate you coming here—but let’s face it. I’m a washed up skater who never even placed in the world records. I don’t understand why you would pick me of all people.”

There. That should do it. Yuuri couldn’t be a coach. Not with his horrible mess of a career. He sent a silent apology to Coach Celestino.

Victor pressed his lips together. Then, “you really don’t know?”

Yuuri startled when Victor grabbed his face, tugging him down to Victor’s level. His breath caught as those blue eyes bored into his own. It felt pervasive, as if Victor could see straight into the center of him.

“Victor!”

“I can’t believe you don’t know,” Victor murmured, voice soft and his breath coasting against Yuuri’s cheeks. “Do you know how beautiful you are when you skate? When you skate, it’s like your body is creating music.”

Yuuri flushed. “You—it’s really nothing. Besides, you already won two gold medals and shattered world record. It’s only been two years since your senior debut.”

“Yes, but I’m—I can do better, and I can do it with your help.” Victor stroked Yuuri’s cheek with his thumb, sliding over the soft patch of skin just beneath his eyes and behind his glasses.

Yuuri jerked back, nearly losing his glasses in the process. “You’re crazy.”

“No,” Victor corrected. “I’m full of surprises.”

Which wasn’t wrong. Yuuri knew Victor surprised everyone with his routines, and it seemed he was going to keep on surprising the world.

“I—“ Yuuri looked up at the ceiling. He wasn’t a coach.

“Come on,” Victor implored. “Take me on for a week.”

Yuuri wavered. “I told you I’m not a coach.”

“I’m telling you, you can be mine. One week.”

“Fine,” the word slipped out before Yuuri could take it back. He didn’t know why he said it, but somehow the word just fit.

“Yes!” Victor cheered.

“Okay, now let’s head back. You really do need the rest to skate properly tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a media shit storm, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the interest in this fic. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint though we'll really get into the heart of everything in the next chapter. I haven't forgotten about our other players. :)

Sequence II

It was impossible to sleep.

Throughout the night, Yuuri kept cringing at the slightest sound. Every creak sent his heart rate rocketing up. All because he still couldn’t believe that Victor Nikiforov was here in his house. That, and Victor suggested he share a bed with Yuuri. The Russian had a strange notion that it would help him learn better. Yuuri never shared a bed with Coach Celestino—he had to wonder what training method Yakov employed for Victor to say that. Yuuri liked his privacy, and he forcefully shut the door, wishing he had a lock like his dorm in Detroit. He didn’t need someone else in his space, and having someone as beautiful and talented as Victor in his room made Yuuri felt rather inadequate. All night, he tossed and turned. Why did he agree to coach? He knew nothing about it!

He finally climbed out of bed around four in the morning. It was an ungodly hour. None of the current onsen guests were early risers, not like the last group. Only Yuuri’s parents puttered around, getting everything ready for the day—making the traditional Japanese breakfast and all. Yuuri busied himself with restocking towels and soaps, checking if all the baths were clean and in order, and all the sort of tasks that kept him calm. The work quieted his mind, enough that Yuuri could breathe easier and—

There was a loud bang as Minako-sensei, his former ballet instructor, burst through the onsen’s doors. Yuuri looked up from his sweeping, confused.

“Yuuri! What did you do?” She waved her cell in the air, movement violent with action and excitement.

“M-Minako-sensei?”

Her eyes were wide, hair mussed from the apparent rush to get to Yutopia. It was a rare sight to see her awake this early, and an uncomfortable sensation settled into Yuuri’s stomach.

“What did you do?” she repeated again. “Is it true? Are you really going to work with Victor Nikiforov?”

“What?” Yuuri’s jaw dropped. “How do you know?”

He only decided last night, and there was no way anyone should know. He didn’t even think anyone knew Victor was in Japan.

Minako-sensei passed him her cell. It was opened to Victor’s _Instagram_. There was a shot of Yuuri skating across the ice at _Ice Castle_ posted late last night with the tags _#guesswhat_  and _#newseason, #newthings_ along with Yuuri’s name.

“Oh my…” Yuuri clutched the broom, hugging it in shock. In hindsight, he should have saw this coming. While Yuuri wasn’t very active on his various media accounts, there were skaters that were. Like Phichit who couldn’t stop tweeting for his life.

“Yeah, what I thought,” Minako-sensei quipped. “You—are you making a routine for him?”

“I don’t—“ Yuuri swallowed, unable to find his words. There was a tightness in Yuuri’s chest. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. A routine? That was something he might have to do for Victor, and Yuuri really wasn't prepared for this. Why did he say yes?

“It’s not that,” Yuuri managed to croak out. “I just—“

Mari entered then, looking harassed. “Yuuri, you better stay in today. There’s reporters crawling about. I haven’t seen that many since you first started!”

“Thanks,” Yuuri mumbled. “I—I don’t…”

“I’ll take care of them.” Mari pulled her usual bandana around her forehead tight. There was a sharp gleam in her eyes that meant hell.

“Thank you!” Yuuri called out. When she left, he groaned and banged his head against the handle of the broom.

It was a media shit storm.

How could it not be with Victor being so well loved by his fans? Yuuri knew. He followed Victor too. Even though it hurt not to compete, Yuuri kept up with the news. Mainly for Phichit, but…Victor was super popular. He couldn’t say how he ended up here. It still felt like a dream, but that might have just been sleep deprivation talking.

“Shh,” Minako-sensei hummed. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him to the back. “Let’s go sit down first, hm, and you can tell me what’s going on.”

“O-okay.” Yuuri let her guide him to a chair like she used to do when he studied under her. Minako-sensei always took her time with him. She handled Yuuri’s nerves like the pro she was, and he was glad she was there right then and there.

“We better tell your parents too,” Minako-sensei added. They were in the kitchen, but it didn’t mean that people wouldn’t try to sneak in. Yutopia was an onsen after all for everyone.

“They already know.” Mari came through. She bustled around the counter, a little clumsy as she prepared tea for them. “I found one of them digging in the trash, but they should be gone for now.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri said again. “I think, I’m okay right now.”

“Take your time. I’m going to handle the guests,” Mari nodded. Yuuri sighed in relief. His sister always knew what to do and how to take charge. If it wasn’t for her, Yuuri wasn’t sure he could have gone as far as he did in skating. Over the last few years of retirement, he came to realize how lucky he was to have a family like his.

“So?” Minako-sensei prompted when Yuuri had some tea. The feeling in his stomach had mostly abated, and he smiled ruefully at her.

“It’s kind of like that.” He shrugged and hurried on before Minako-sensei could complain he was holding out on her. “Um…I guess, Victor asked me to be his coach?”

“You guess?” Minako-sensei looked at him, disbelief on her face. “What do you mean you guess?”

Yuuri winced. “I don’t know. He just showed up yesterday, saying that he wants me to be his coach. I don’t even know how to coach!”

Minako-sensei gave him a good long look. “Do you even want to be his coach?”

Yuuri flinched. His instructor didn’t mince words at all, getting straight to the point.

“Because if you don’t,” she continued, “you better stop him right away. It only ends badly if you try to stop it later.”

“I…I want to,” Yuuri said, soft and quiet. He was surprised that he really did. “We’re doing a trial period for a, ah, a week.”

“Very good,” Minako-sensei said and smiled so happily that it scared Yuuri for a second. “I’m glad. Maybe this will help you too. I thought it was a shame that you quit skating professionally. Perhaps you can return after this.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think so.” Yuuri shook his head. “I think that’s already ended for me.”

“But—“

“Even if I can still do jumps, I’m already getting old for the rink. It’s just realistic.” That was probably one of the most difficult things Yuuri admitted to himself and had to come to terms with last year when he watched the season. There were too many new skaters, all so good at what they do and surpassing the other generations by miles. Minako-sensei didn’t say a word. She merely gave Yuuri one of those looks.

“Anyway, I—do you have any advice? I really don’t know how to coach.”

She sat with him for an hour giving him some general guidance. There were even books on coaching apparently, and Yuuri resolved to get some from the library or order some online. It was good to know there were resources to guide him.

Although, Yuuri almost had a heart attack again on checking his phone. His media accounts had blown up with messages, all asking about Victor. Phichit even texted him with a sad face.

_How come I don’t get students? :(_

Yuuri couldn’t hold back a smirk at that.

_I guess you’re just not good enough mr gold medal_

_Rude_ came Phichit’s reply. _Ciao Ciao wants 2 talk 2 u. Call him._

That—that wasn’t something Yuuri wanted to do yet. He did want to talk to Coach Yakov. He better give the man a head’s up. It took some finagling, but Yuuri managed to get the man’s number. Phichit had contacts with nearly everyone in the skating world. It amazed Yuuri sometimes how Phichit even became friends with him. Their time together at the skating club in Detroit was really a lucky meeting.

“Hello,” Yuuri said, hesitantly.

“Yes? Who’s this?” Yakov sounded grouchy.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but this is Yuuri Katsuki. I seem to have—“

“You have my student.”

“Yeah. I—“

“Who do you think you are?” Yakov asked, brusque.

“What?”

“I know you. You have never medaled in your life, and you want to be Victor’s coach! Well, you can try, but you’ll be begging for me to take him back.”

The call ended abruptly, and Yuuri stared at it.

“Who was that?” Victor yawned as he padded into the kitchen.

“Your coach?”

“Don’t listen to him. I never do.” Victor stretched, a grin on his face. “When do we start?”

That was a good question. Yuuri stowed his cell away, frowning. Yakov’s words brushed him the wrong way. Yuuri may have been a washed up skater, but Victor came to him for a reason.

“Eat first, and we’ll go to the rink. Let’s see what we can do in one week.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And guess who makes an appearance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time it took to update. Work has gotten busy, and I gotten new responsibilities. I think I need to come up with a writing schedule. I really do want to finish this fic. Thanks for reading, and hope you are having a happy new year.

A week. It was all Yuuri had. One week. It made his heart clench tight and his breath short. If Yuuri had to reach for a lorazepam, well, no one needed to know. It allowed his heart to settle to a normal beat, and the fogginess in his head to clear.

“Good morning,” Victor greeted, cheerful. He was already halfway finished with breakfast.

“You’re up early.” Yuuri blinked. “Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. You have the dedication…”

It had always been a struggle for Yuuri to get up in the morning. He had never been a morning person, and he suspected that Victor was still here for his own benefit. Couldn’t leave without the coach, after all.

“Jet lag,” Victor answered. “Keeps me up at night.”

“Ah.” Yuuri’s stomach churned. He didn’t feel like eating, and he had to take a deep breath to will his nerves away. Why did he think he could do this?

The jog to _Ice Castle_ is slow and steady. He can already tell that Victor lacks the stamina and runs nowhere near Yuuri’s usual pace. There is a difference in built and style between them. The sky stretched out before him, and Yuuri has one week.

The ice was, of course, magnificent. It was even better with Victor on the rink, lending a beauty and grace that has never existed before in _Ice Castle_. It almost made Yuuri envious, but those days are long gone now. Instead, Yuuri leaned against the rail, watching as Victor performed the compulsory figures and warmed up. He tried his best to watch with a critical eye, to do what a coach is meant to do. How many times has he seen Coach Celestino watch him? It is strange to be on the other side. Yuuri suspected that he wasn’t very efficient. All he could think was that Victor was perfection.

Victor skated to a halt in front of him. He is out of breath, ponytail swinging and disarrayed.

“What do you think?”

“Good,” Yuuri said and winced at how short it is. There is a frown on Victor’s mouth.

“Good,” Victor repeated.

“Ano…” Yuuri floundered for a second before he recovered enough to blurt out. “Do that again!”

“Which part?”

“The, the whole thing!”

“Again?”

“Yes.” Yuuri doesn’t have any pity here. They’re only just getting starting, and Yuuri realized that this was one thing he could work on with Victor. If Victor had an increased stamina, even just a little, it would go a long way in executing his routines. And now that Victor is skating again, Yuuri tried harder to focus. Oh…oh, now that Yuuri looked more carefully he can see the tiny imperfections that mar Victor’s skating. He catalogued them.

“Well?” Victor asked, and there is a demand to his voice. That Yuuri acted as a proper coach and bring out the best in Victor’s skating.

“I think,” Yuuri said slowly. “We need to build up your stamina. There is so much more you could if you have the energy for it.”

“I’ve been told that before.” Victor grimaced, nose wrinkling.

“Then, we know it is a point you still need to work on.” Yuuri paused. “Your jumps—there is little I can comment on. I have never been a jumper, and I certainly never jumped any quads. But your step sequences. I can help you there.”

It startled Yuuri. Until those words came out, he didn’t think he could help Victor. There’s a strange stirring inside, and Yuuri felt it. Knew deep inside that he could improve Victor’s step sequences. Could make Victor’s movement more polished and refined.

“How?” Victor asked, and it is weird to see him docile. Yuuri had quietly browsed through a few videos online. There was maybe two out there that showed Victor training at the rink, and he had a bit of an attitude with Coach Yakov.

“Hm. Let me show you.” Yuuri made his way around to the opening, sliding onto the ice with ease. “Watch me.”

 

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 

The day went well in Yuuri’s opinion. That all came to a head on the third day.

A shiver ran through his spine. There is a presence that’s overbearing, eyes on him. He had just gotten to _Ice Castle_ and in the midst of opening the door. Yuuri turned around, and he didn’t even had a chance to scream as he was sent flying through the doors and into the front counter.

“Ow.” Yuuri groaned, hand reaching up to fix his glasses. He doesn’t need to see to know who it is. There is no way he could forget that Russian punk who shared his name.

“You. I can’t believe the nerve of you.” Yuri Plisetsky stood before him, a scowl on his face and a pointer finger jabbed at Yuuri. He poked Yuuri hard in the chest, punctuating his words. “What are you doing?”

“I'm sorry?” Yuuri feigned innocence. “How can I help you?”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, taking Victor away?”

Yuuri clambered to his feet, patting himself free of dust. Yuri looked entirely baffled, and something dawned on Yuuri.

“I don’t really get the whole picture actually. Maybe you should ask him yourself.”

There was a reason why Victor came out all this way, to Hasetsu. If he thought Yuuri could be his coach, then Yuuri could at least try.

“I will,” Yuri muttered. He eyed Yuuri appraisingly. “You’ve gotten fat.”

“And you’re charming as ever,” Yuuri shot back. After he suffered a crushing defeat at the GPF, Yuri found him crying in the bathroom. They only spoke a few more times after, mainly due to a few skater social functions courtesy of Phichit.

“Ugh, I can’t even look at you,” Yuri covered his eyes even though he already wore sunglasses. “You were such a waste. Such a moron.”

“What—”

“Where’s Victor?” Yuri shouldered his bag, expectant.

“Probably on the rink.”

“Naturally,” Yuri scoffed as if there was any place else Victor would be. “Show me the entrance.”

“Come on then.”

The rink was lit, bright and luminous. Victor was the centerpiece, movements fluid and ethereal. Yuuri’s breath caught at how handsome Victor looked. His hair was untied, flowing around him as if he truly floated in the air. His quad flip boost him up high into the air, and he was one with the sky.

“You dumbass!” Yuri hollered, completely having the opposite reaction of Yuuri to Victor’s wonderful skating. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Yura!” Victor smiled widely. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you stupid.” Yuri gripped the rail. “Get off that ice. We’re going back to Russia!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. Did you—“

“I heard your dramatic good bye to Yakov. Now, get over here.” Yuri’s temple twitched when Victor didn’t do so right away. Victor took his sweet time gliding over to them.

“I missed you too!” Victor pulled Yuri into a hug, nearly toppling the man over the rail and onto the ice.

“Tch. Let go!” A faint flush graced Yuri’s cheeks. “Tell him, fatso.”

Yuuri merely shrugged. “He wants you back, Victor.”

“Do you have to say it in such a way?” Yuri shuddered. “Do I look like you?”

“I can’t go yet,” Victor said, calm and cool. “He’s going to perfect my step sequence.”

“I thought you wanted to learn from me. Didn’t you tell me that before Juniors?”

“Ah,” Victor said, and Yuuri’s heartbeat skyrocketed. He didn’t know that. He wanted—

“I forgot.”

“Forgetful as always.” Yuri drummed his fingers against the rail. He shot Yuuri a dirty look. “Very well. There’s only one thing for it. I’m going to coach you too. At the end of the week, you can decide who’s the better coach!”

“What?” Yuuri exclaimed.

“You heard me,” Yuri snapped back.

“But—“

“We’ll trade days,” Yuri nodded decisively. “And since you already had Victor for two days, the next two are mine.”

“Wait, wait a minute.” Yuuri stammered. This was far from what he imagined happening.

“I believe in you.” Victor said. “In both of you. Show me that you’re the best coach ever.”


End file.
